Night time, mulled cider candle and the glowing screen in front me, and my body aches.
Deep down, the throbbing muscles pulse upward through my legs, my thighs, heading directly toward my neck and head. Each ache radiates from a hard day, a stressful soul wearing out day. Yet, here I am still typing out words, even though my cognizant abilities have since left them building.
I feel morning’s aches in the up to early rush.
My alarm receives its dutiful slap, then morning blindsides me. Shower, dress, coffee, door. Each box, I open. Each item, I shelve. My soreness creeps up to overthrow me, but I press on. No one wants to see a tired, bed-draggled employee. So, I smile and pretend that the aches aren’t there. Work day ends, or the paid part of my work day.
Afternoon aches begin with a heart wrenchedness.
Sometimes, we ache in places that we can never touch, feel, but the wrong words stab deep into the softness beneath the armor. I have learned to wear a lot of armor. The aching comes from un-cried tears from trying to be strong. My jaw muscles have bitten back words of truth and cruelty, but I mulled them over in my head. I wish I could easily bite my tongue to hold back the cruel things I think towards myself. Another aching, I carry.
Evening hurts are a jumbled mess of all the day thrown into a big pot and stewed.
Morning’s work, afternoon words, and night’s darkness threaten to overthrow me. I carry about these aches like some sort of medal, a badge of honor, but in the quietest, innermost place, I want these aches to vanish. But I cannot rid myself of these aches if I refuse to open myself, to remove the heavy plated armor. I must allow myself the opportunity to be fully human.
Perhaps, this is our we show ourselves grace.
We admit our humanity, remove our need for perfection, and continue on. But I must live in a world who doesn’t give damn about showing grace. How we can we ever fully live if we must bear up under all of the accusing, the hatefulness thrown our way? How does a soul bear those aches? And he said: “ Come unto to me all you who are heavily laden, and I will give you rest.”
We are promised rest, but we must first come. Right now, I stumble forward in order to gain rest, to be free from these aches.
This post was written for the Life: Unmasked Blog carnival hosted by Joy in This Journey.